Necropolis

by Wendy Saunders

  Elias’s jaw tightened as he stared at her silently.

  Pearl turned back to Eve, reaching out tentatively and stroking her face.

  ‘Beautiful girl,’ she murmured as her gaze slid across to Scarlett with a sigh. ‘She can’t stay ‘ere; it ain’t safe for her. I can’t protect her, and she must be protected no matter what.’

  Scarlett nodded.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Olivia interrupted, ‘just so that I understand here. What exactly is she?’

  Pearl stared at Eve as if she were a unicorn, stroking her pale blond, matted hair.

  ‘She’s a Siren,’ Pearl replied reverently, ‘probably the last of her kind.’

  ‘A Siren?’ Olivia frowned, ‘what like… a mermaid?’ she glanced down at Eve’s legs, almost as if she expected her to suddenly sprout a tail or fins.

  ‘No,’ Scarlett smiled, ‘mermaids aren’t real, but Sirens are where the myth grew from. They lived on small islands, always close to the ocean. Their voices are incredibly powerful, not just the warning cry which she used earlier, that’s just an inherent defense mechanism. No, when she speaks her voice is impossible to resist. She could make you do anything, and you would be helpless to obey. She could tell you to kill someone, or jump off a cliff, or even hold your own breath until your heart stops beating.’

  ‘So, wait a minute,’ Elias frowned, ‘she can actually talk?’

  Scarlett turned to Eve, who made a few rapid gestures with her hands.

  ‘She says she was told never to speak, never to use her voice,’ Scarlett translated. ‘It’s how she remained undetected for so long.’

  ‘You’ve never spoken?’ Elias looked directly at Eve, his voice soft, ‘never used your voice… ever?’

  Eve shook her head slowly, her gaze dipping to her feet where she stared hard at the sawdust covered ground.

  ‘You’re not deaf either, are you?’ he murmured thoughtfully.

  She shook her head again, not looking up as she twisted the grubby material of her dress in her dirty fingers uncomfortably.

  Olivia frowned as she stared at Eve. The girl looked so helpless, it was hard to imagine her being a danger to anyone, if she hadn’t witnessed her warning cry in all its glory.

  ‘It’s not just the power of compulsion they have,’ Scarlett continued. ‘Their gift is not just rooted in their voice but in language itself. They are able to read, write, speak and understand any language that has ever been or ever will be. It made them extremely valuable to traffickers who deal in black market magic. The Sirens were hunted to the brink of extinction. She’s the first one I’ve seen in over a thousand years and we’ve just put her right on the Veritas’s radar.’

  ‘Damn it,’ Olivia muttered as she closed her eyes tiredly.

  ‘Olivia,’ Scarlet spoke softly, ‘it makes her our responsibility.’

  ‘You said you were told never to speak?’ Olivia asked Eve directly, now knowing she wasn’t deaf, and she could indeed hear every word she was saying. ‘Who told you that?’

  Her hands moved again.

  ‘Her mother,’ Scarlett translated. ‘Her mother told her she was never to speak. Letting people believe she was a deaf mute was the only way to ensure her survival.’

  ‘What happened to your mother Eve?’ Olivia asked softly.

  ‘Men came,’ Scarlett began to speak once again as Eve’s hands moved and flowed fluidly. ‘She hid Eve and told her to stay quiet. Her mother tried to use her voice to protect them, to protect Eve. It nearly worked. But one of the men, realizing they couldn’t take her alive, cut her throat so she couldn’t compel them to hurt themselves or each other.’

  ‘Eve,’ Olivia let out a heavy breath, ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Eve didn’t elaborate or even look at them, she just continued to stare at her feet, her fingers twisting her dress.

  ‘Poor child,’ Pearl muttered, ‘shouldn’t’ve ‘ad to see that, and just a babe too. I can’t imagine how you survived this long on your own.’ She sighed, once again glancing across to Scarlett. ‘You can stay tonight, but tomorrow you need to move her someplace safer and the kinda protection you’ll be wantin’, it ain’t gonna come cheap.’

  ‘Money I’ve got,’ Elias interrupted decisively, ‘it won’t be a problem. Just tell me what we need to do.’

  Pearl turned to stare at him appraisingly and he had the sudden, uncomfortable feeling of being stripped bare.

  ‘You’ll be wanting Hadley & Mason,’ she finally spoke. ‘Property Brokers over on Berry Street in Cheapside, tell ‘em Pearl sent you and you’ll be wantin’ a listing from the green ledger.’

  Elias nodded.

  ‘I’ll visit them first thing in the morning,’ he confirmed.

  Pearl pulled a silver cigarette case from a concealed pocket in her voluminous black and gold skirt. Flipping it open she pulled out a small thin, black cigarillo and lit it, taking a long drag and exhaling slowly and thoughtfully as the smoke snaked out of her nostrils like a dragon.

  ‘Go see Luthor and Ada,’ she finally told them. ‘They’ll find you a place to kip for the night and for god’s sake find the girl some descent clothes before she freezes to death.’

  ‘Thanks Pearl,’ Scarlett nodded as she took Eve’s fragile hand and led her from the small tent, closely followed by Elias and Olivia, all while Pearl watched them with troubled eyes.

  It was perhaps an hour later that Elias found himself once again alone. The ladies had disappeared with Eve to do, god only knew what ladies did when left to their own devices. Unable to sleep, and with the conversation with Pearl still echoing in his mind, it was perhaps no great surprise when he found himself once again at the entrance to her tent.

  Unable to knock, he coughed loudly.

  ‘You might as well come in,’ her voice echoed through the stout canvas.

  Lifting the tent flap, he stepped inside. He found Pearl reclined in a wing back chair, with her trademark cigarillo in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other.

  No longer wearing her gown, she now reclined in her chair, rather immodestly, in a black and gold robe loosely tied at the waist and revealing that, beneath it, all she wore was a chemise and corset in the same dark, signature, midnight hue.

  Seemingly unapologetic about her state of undress, she sipped her brandy as she sat beside a small black cast iron, wood burning stove with a thin chimney which reached up through the roof of the tent.

  ‘Thought you might be back,’ she took a slow drag of her cigarillo and blew out a thin winding stream of smoke as she watched him lazily, her dark eyes full of secrets.

  ‘Pearl,’ he nodded.

  ‘Want one?’ she lifted the glass in her hand.

  ‘I wouldn’t say no,’ he replied as she offered him a seat on the other side of the stove and rose to fill a glass for him.

  ‘Wouldn’t say no to somethin’ stronger either I’ll bet?’ she raised one elegant brow as he slid into the seat opposite her. ‘Still craving the poppy?’

  His spine stiffened; his expression wary as she handed him a brandy.

  ‘Takes one to know one love,’ her mouth curved.

  She stubbed her cigarillo out on the stove and crossed the room to a large, black lacquered box inlaid with delicate orchids, which sat atop a sizeable steamer trunk. Opening the lid, she retrieved a rectangular tray in deep red with gold inlay, upon which sat a small oriental lamp, a pipe, several small tools and a small pot.

  She crossed the room and laid the tray on a small table between the two chairs. Elias said nothing, he simply watched as she opened the small pot which contained raw opium, unable to decline her generous offer.

  She spent the next several minutes using the tools to shape the opium into pellets. Lifting the long flute pipe, she used a needle like tool to place the opium in a small bowl at one end of the pipe which sat upon a saddle and handed it to Elias.

  He stared at her for a long moment before finally taking the pipe. He placed it to his lips and leaned forward over the lamp,
allowing the flame to heat the bowl and vaporize the opium, which he then inhaled slowly.

  Letting out a contented breath he handed the pipe to Pearl and sat back in his chair while she leaned over the lamp and took a long drag from the pipe.

  Pearl reclined in her chair and watched Elias carefully, her dark eyes appraising.

  ‘Logan Beckett,’ she finally spoke her voice languid and deep. ‘Or is it Elias Black?’

  ‘That’s the question, isn’t it?’ Elias replied.

  ‘You are an enigma ain’t you?’ she mused. ‘Do you know what threads are?’

  He stared at her.

  ‘Everyone has ‘em,’ she continued, ‘the threads of life. That’s what the witches call ‘em. It’s the invisible threads that bind us all together, to all other living things. My kind? We call ‘em soul lines. Most of us only ‘ave a few, but not you, and yours are all tangled, snarled up. I can’t get a read on you.’

  She leaned forward once again and lifted the pipe to her lips, heating the bulb over the lamp and inhaling deeply.

  ‘Your life, when you was younger,’ she handed him the pipe and watched as he leaned back over the lamp. ‘It’s like a double exposed photograph,’ she mused. ‘Two lives laid on top of each other, the lines between the two blurring. You don’t remember his life, but you feel his guilt.’

  Elias inhaled deeply, falling back against the chair as he exhaled slowly, his body relaxed and his mind calmer. He stared at Pearl as she watched him in turn. There was a ripe lushness about her. Even though her corseted waist was tiny, her enormous breasts almost spilled over the top of her corset, her pale skin soft and inviting, her dark chemise scandalously sheer.

  The room was warm and his mind hazy as he studied her pure white hair, which tumbled over her shoulders in loose waves and curls, a very unfashionable style. Despite her white hair, she didn’t seem old, which confused him. Her skin was unlined and smooth, but her dark eyes seemed to hold the weight and knowledge of many years.

  ‘How old are you Pearl?’ he asked impulsively, before the thought had even fully formed in his mind.

  ‘Not as old as you love,’ her mouth curved.

  His head fell back against the chair and he momentarily closed his eyes, releasing a deep sigh.

  ‘When I was younger,’ he murmured, ‘I lived in a place called Salem, in America. I was… another person back then. I’m told that the timeline was changed somehow, and it created an alternate reality. One in which I changed.’

  Pearl huffed as she downed her brandy. ‘That’ll do it. Time is not to be messed wiv, it can have unintended results.’

  ‘I have no memory of that other life, the other person I used to be,’ he opened his unfocused eyes, ‘but every now and then I get a glimpse, a flicker of a memory that’s not mine.’

  ‘You’re a paradox, the man who can’t die, but did,’ she leaned over toward him, affording him an unhindered view of her creamy breasts. ‘You’ve been given somethin’ very few ‘ave.’

  Her voice was low and husky in the dim lamplight, creating an air of intimacy.

  ‘You crossed the veil and returned, but you came back different, didn’t you?’

  He stood slowly and crossed the room, loosening his collar uncomfortably as he shook of his jacket and tossed it over the steamer trunk. He unbuttoned his waistcoat. If Pearl wasn’t bothered with the propriety of how she was dressed he didn’t see why he should be either.

  He reached for the bottle of brandy and poured himself another glass, downing it in one go and then refilling it.

  ‘You’ve got a great deal of power Elias,’ Pearl watched him in interest. ‘More than I’ve ever seen from a witch, your friend excluded of course. She’s a whole different can of dogs.’

  He wandered back over to the chair with his glass in one hand and the fingers of his other wrapped around the neck of the bottle. He refilled Pearl’s glass as she lifted it, but instead of sitting back in the chair, he sat down on the floor in front of it giving him an easier position to pick up the opium pipe and lean into the lamp. Holding the bulb of the pipe over the flame he waited to inhale another hit of vapor.

  ‘I know that look,’ Pearl drained her brandy as she stood slowly. ‘My father was a preacher, ‘e would’ve seen me burn for what I am.’

  She crossed the space between them and dropped down to the floor beside him, lifting the brandy and pouring another, topping up his glass also.

  ‘I was raised a Puritan,’ Elias admitted as he knocked back his brandy.

  ‘The shit they peddled us when we was children,’ Pearl told him. ‘Those are the ties that bind, but if you’re not careful, they can easily become a noose.’

  She leaned in closer.

  ‘People like us? We make our own rules.’ She reached out slowly, her fingers tracing his exposed throat, over his pulse, which pounded beneath his skin. She trailed the pads of her fingers down over the skin exposed by his open collar. ‘I feel the power beneath your skin Elias,’ she whispered. ‘It’s magnificent, it’s vast and raw. A man like that... answers to no one, least of all his dead father.’

  Her mouth curved as she leaned in closer, her soft lips mere inches from his.

  ‘It’s time to choose your own path Elias.’

  She reached for his fingers and grasped the pipe which was laying lax in his grip as he watched her with dark eyes. Her mouth curved in a feline smile as she leaned over him toward the flame, lifting the pipe to her lips.

  His hand lifted as he watched her inhale slowly, and he traced his fingertips over the soft smooth swell of her breasts, gliding across her skin intimately as she’d done to him, watching as she closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure. Reaching into the neckline of her chemise he cupped her breast, kneading it slowly as he dragged his thumb across her nipple, feeling it harden under his touch.

  She let out a small hum of pleasure as she leaned back in and took another long drag of the pipe.

  He grasped her chemise and yanked it down, exposing her lush breasts to his view. He leaned in and pressed his face to her warm flushed skin. She smelled delicious. Something dark and earthy, overlaid with the exotic scent of jasmine.

  He pressed his lips to her smooth skin as she let out another hum of pleasure, arching into his touch, her thighs shifting together restlessly. He drew her nipple into his mouth and stroked it with his tongue as she continued to breathe in the pipe.

  His hand parted her robe, skimming up the length of her leg, dragging her chemise with it and parting her thighs. She shifted again, allowing him to drag his calloused fingertips across the most intimate part of her. The friction was maddening and as she threw her head back and exhaled on a gasp, he thrust his fingers inside her, letting her ride out the rush of opium and the heady flush of arousal.

  Her lips crashed against his, warm and hungry. Her fingers burrowed into his hair and held on as she rocked against his hand, his tongue in her mouth. He devoured her with single minded skill until all she could do was purr in pleasure.

  Pulling back for air, her lips swollen from his kisses she lifted the pipe to his lips and helped him to lean forward toward the lamp. With his free hand he grasped the pipe and breathed in deeply. He felt Pearl shift again and this time her hands reached for his trousers, unbuttoning them. He lifted his hips as she slid them down slightly, reaching in and wrapping her soft warm hands around him and stroking firmly, her breath gusting against his flesh.

  He groaned as he felt her mouth close over him, unable to help the instinctive thrust of his hips as he continued to breath in the pipe vapors. Suddenly his head fell back, and he let out a loud groan as he exhaled. The pressure of her mouth was exquisite torture as he grabbed her hair roughly and dragged her up his body. She desperately climbed over his thighs, even as he was pushing her robe and her chemise up to her waist.

  She sank down on him and they both groaned as he filled her. Frantically, she began to ride him. The world around them was a dizzying whirl of color and sensation. He g
rabbed her hips, his fingers gripping her skin tightly as she gripped his hair and bit into his bottom lip.

  The room was spinning, all he could taste was the wild flavor of her mouth, all he could feel was the grip of her flesh as he thrust inside her. The scent of her flushed, warm skin enveloped him and together they descended into drug fueled euphoria.

  16

  Elias swallowed tentatively, feeling like he’d swallowed broken glass. The relentless drumming inside his skull was excruciating as he groaned and rolled over, finding himself laying on a narrow cot.

  ‘Rough night by the looks of you,’ a deep rumbling voice observed with just a hint of disapproval.

  Elias blinked; his eyeballs felt like they were coated in a fine layer of sawdust as he lifted his aching head a fraction. Slowly his focus swam into view and he could see an enormous man sitting in a chair opposite him, observing him quietly.

  The man was huge, even folded into a chair which was clearly too small for him. Elias had to guess he was at least seven feet tall, and that was a conservative estimate. The man wore a loose-fitting shirt. Well it would have been loose on any other man but on this giant the material was stretched taut, looking as if the stitches at the seams would burst if he moved more than an inch. The eyes that watched him were deep blue, his head bald and round, and he had a curly moustache that coiled comically at the ends.

  Elias tried to push himself up into a sitting position, and another groan rolled from his lips. All he could do was clutch his head in his hands to stop it from spinning right off his shoulders.

  As he sat with his head between his knees, staring at the ground and trying not vomit, he felt a nudge against his shoulder. Sucking in a shallow breath he looked up to find the oversized man towering over him holding a cup.

  Elias blinked again, staring at him for a moment before taking the cup gratefully and raising it to his lips. He managed several huge gulps before coughing violently and spewing some of the contents across the dusty ground.